Umshterblekh
an excerpt

This is the opening paragraph of my novel:

It was definitely a Tuesday when Fraydel decided that she and her husband of over 100 years might well be immortal. She was sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast, watching the light shine down through the window onto her boiled egg. How many years now had she been eating boiled eggs for breakfast? Eighty, ninety? Who could count anymore? How many chickens had been born, laid eggs, and died noble chicken deaths for her so that she could start her day with an egg and some bread. It was unthinkable, which was strange since chicken math should have been easier than thinking about immortality. But it struck her, just then, as she watched dust motes dancing down the column of light, that she and Szaja may have been alive for too long to ever quite die. She took another bite of egg and bread and sighed.